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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576755">AP Senioritis And Popularity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Car Accident mention, Closeted Character, Divorce, Football, Gen, High School, Injury, Mentions of Alcohol/Addiction, Mentions of Cancer, Origins, Pre-Canon, Reckless Behavior, Repression</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:41:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Troy Barnes is the most popular guy at Riverside High School.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>AP Senioritis And Popularity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi guys - this is a little bit angsty, and a little different from anything else i've ever written. i was trying to explore what troy's senior year might've looked like ... this concept might be something i return to in the future, but i'm not sure. i'd thought a lot about this while i was writing advanced companion reconciliation so i wanted to write a little bit more about it!<br/>that being said, nothing is too explicit, but please check the tags and do not do anything that will make you said. if anyone else needs anything else to be tagged that i missed, please let me know.<br/>thank you, and if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment/kudos!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Troy Barnes wakes up, head pounding and face pressing into the carpet, eyes stinging and limbs heavy, it isn't those circumstances that scare him.</p><p>In fact, these circumstances are becoming increasingly common for him.</p><p>Someone gags somewhere to his left. Troy slowly lifts his head to look at the sound and sees a girl he vaguely recognizes vomiting into a houseplant. He peers at her through bleary eyes and slowly peels himself off the floor.</p><p>No, that wasn't what was scaring him.</p><p>"Hey," Evan says, passing by and patting him on the shoulder. Troy feels his skin burn underneath his touch. "Everyone's gotta leave now. Sorry, man."</p><p>"It's cool." Troy tries to swallow. His mouth is so dry, it's uncomfortable. He can't remember most of the night before. He could've said anything to Evan – or to anyone else. He knows he rambles when he's drunk. "Thanks for having me, man."</p><p>"Of course, dude." Evan smiles and Troy tries not to read into it. "You're like, the life of the party. You coming next weekend?"</p><p>"Yeah," Troy says. "As long as that's cool."</p><p>"Super cool," Evan replies, and Troy is left feeling somehow both lighter and infinitely heavier than he had felt at the start of the day.</p><p>His car is parked down at the end of the street and when he manages to stumble outside and squint into the light, he finds Hailey standing in front of it.</p><p>"'Bout time," she says. She doesn't try to kiss him, the way she normally would.</p><p>"Oh. Sorry," he says.</p><p>"I was wondering where you went last night. I thought we were having fun."</p><p>"Oh," he says again. "Uh, I was in the living room. On the floor, I think."</p><p>"You think?"</p><p>"Yeah," he says getting into the car and watching her slide in next to him. "I think. Sorry about that."</p><p>"It's fine," she says. </p><p>She sighs. </p><p>They drive the rest of the way in silence.</p><p>Senior year is not all it's cracked up to be.</p>
<hr/><p>"Oh, no!"</p><p>"Yes!" Troy says, burying his head in the hands and laughing lightly. "It was so embarrassing."</p><p>"Oh, that's not so bad," says his Uncle Carl. "At least you made an impression on the recruiters. For better or for worse."</p><p>"I need it to be better!" Troy exclaims. He sinks even further into Carl's couch.</p><p>"Then be better!" Carl says simply. "C'mon. I know you. I know you're capable. And you know how I know that?"</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"Because <em>I'm</em> capable. And you take after me."</p><p>"Don't let my Dad hear you saying that."</p><p>"Your <em>Dad </em>should know the truth by now. Everything you need, you get from me."</p><p>"Nana says I get it from my mom," says Troy somewhat bitterly.</p><p>"Well, then Nana can come to talk to me about it," Carl says. "I've got a few words to say to her, anyway."</p><p>"She'll get the last word," Troy says. </p><p>"You forget," says Carl, "that she raised me. I know how to handle her."</p><p>Suddenly, the phone rings, startling Troy and making him jump.</p><p>"Grab that for me, would you?" Carl gestures for the landline. Troy scurries across the room to bring it to him before returning to his seat on the couch.</p><p>Carl eagerly holds the phone up to his ear and hangs up within seconds. He makes a noise of discontent and throws it onto one of the open couch cushions.</p><p>Troy feels the energy in the room shift. "It's not him?"</p><p>Carl shakes his head, his eyes shut tight. "Nah."</p><p>"Does he know...?"</p><p>"...That I'm dying?"</p><p>Troy nods, ashamed, and instantly regrets it. "That you're sick."</p><p>"That's a damn good question," Carl says. "Depends on if he's actually getting my messages or not." Carl pauses, considering. "I don't even know if he's using the same phone anymore. And knowing Dimitri, he's probably getting into trouble. Now <em>there's</em> a boy that takes after his mother." Carl gives a brief, cheeky smile which quickly fades. "He'll find out soon enough. One way or another."</p><p>"Don't say that."</p><p>"What? He will."</p><p>"He'll be there when you get better," Troy says. "Maybe even if you decide to accept the treatment–"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Why not?" says Troy, almost whining. Had he been with anyone other than Carl, he may have felt ashamed of his tone.</p><p>"You know why." Carl leans back in his seat. "Sometimes there are more important things."</p><p>Troy bites his lip and turns his head toward the ground, tears welling up in his eyes.</p><p>"Hey," Carl says. "Enough of that. This is a happy day."</p><p>Troy swallows down his emotions. "Yeah."</p><p>"So let's be happy."</p><p>Troy brings his head up to give Uncle Carl his best smile — the one he had been practicing. Carl smiles back.</p>
<hr/><p>He has an offer from LSU. They're offering him a lot of scholarship money. </p><p>It's not the only school that's interested in him, but it's the one that has his dad the most excited. </p><p>"Another tiger in the family!" he says gleefully whenever it comes up in conversation. Troy's stomach twists itself into knots. He doesn't want to mess this up. He's not sure he wants to get it right, either.</p>
<hr/><p>He doesn't mean to show up late to football practice. However, it didn't really matter what he meant to do, all that matters is that he's late. Again. So he gets ordered to run laps.</p><p>He hates running laps. He hates the mindless repetition of it and he hates the empty space in his brain that rattled around when he run like this, without anything else to keep his mind occupied and focused.</p><p>His coach takes him aside after practice. "Hey," he says. "Just wanted to check in and make sure you were doing okay."</p><p>"Yeah," Troy says, his voice pitching upward. "Yeah, of course, why do you ask?"</p><p>His coach makes a face. "Well, you've been late, Troy."</p><p>Shame burned in his chest. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry."</p><p>"You're team captain for a reason, Troy. And I know that you know the other guys look up to you. We need you to be here."</p><p>Troy looks at the ground. "I'm sorry, Coach. I'll fix it."</p><p>"I know you will."</p><p>Troy kicks at the grass. "Is that all? Can I go now?"</p><p>"Well, no. That's not all." Troy's head flies up. "Troy, you have to be passing at least 6 classes to play. They just sent me your Algebra report from this week. You have to fix that."</p><p>Troy nods eagerly. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I'll fix it, I promise."</p><p>His coach narrows his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? If you need a tutor we can find you one."</p><p>"No, really, it's fine. I can fix it, I promise." Troy's already backing away. "Bye, Coach. See you later."</p>
<hr/><p>When Troy sleeps in his own bed (rather than someone's basement floor) he stares up at the ceiling, twitching under the covers and waiting for sleep.</p><p>There's one singular glow-in-the-dark star on his ceiling. There used to be an entire constellation, but once he started sneaking girls in the house, he had taken them all down, save for the one stubborn star he couldn't quite reach.</p><p>He knows it's inanimate. The star doesn't have feelings. He knows this.</p><p>Still, he wonders if it feels lonely now that it was alone. He wonders if it's mad at Troy for getting rid of all its friends.</p><p><em>I'm sorry,</em> he wants to tell it. <em>I didn't mean to make you sad. I can be your friend, if you want.</em> But he doesn't, because it isn't alive and it doesn't have feelings. And besides, the star probably wouldn't want to be his friend, anyways, not when Troy was the reason for its loneliness. </p><p>So they coexist, two beings, each one-of-a-kind and alone at Troy's hand.</p><p>It takes him a long time to fall asleep, these days.</p>
<hr/><p>He blacks out at another party, and this time, Hailey's there to see it all.</p><p>"It was really bad, Troy. I couldn't find the keys to your car, and you started walking home so I just had to follow you out there...“ Her voice gets quiet when she recounts the night to him. "You kept walking up on the bridge and saying you were going swimming. Troy, it was really scary."</p><p>"I'm a really good swimmer," is all he has to say.</p>
<hr/><p>"Hey, Troy," says the weird girl with a locker near his. "So I heard you weren't doing that great in algebra, and you know, if you need a tutor for math, I'd be happy to help..."</p><p>Who told her that? How did she hear that?</p><p>"I'm being recruited by colleges to play football," he tells her. "I don't have time for math. The only thing that matters to me are statistics."</p><p>The people around him cheer. He was right, and she was wrong.</p><p>"That's actually a type of math, so..."</p><p>And he knows that, he does, it was just one of those things that comes out of his mouth when he speaks before thinking and his thoughts were all jumbled in his head, spinning around so fast they made his vision fuzzy and he <em>knew math, okay?! </em> He isn't dumb. It's just hard to listen in the class because he's seated right by the window so he can see out onto the street and there's always people walking by and—</p><p>And that isn't even the point. The point is he doesn't even need math, anyways, and that's why he doesn't care that much. If he needed math, and if he didn't sit by the window, he'd be fine. He isn't dumb. He just doesn't need it.</p>
<hr/><p>He fails one more math test before he starts paying a kid to do his homework for him. His tests start miraculously returning to him with C's on them. Technically a passing grade. </p><p>He tries to not notice how much his math teacher loves football and he tries not to wonder if that has something to do with it. </p><p>But his teacher is at every game, so it's not easy to do.</p>
<hr/><p>"I don't think this is working," Troy tells Hailey in the backseat of his car.</p><p>She pulls away from him. "Are you fucking serious?"</p><p>"Um," he stalls. "Yes."</p><p>"No," she counters. "No. I know you're going through... something..."</p><p>Troy flushes and feels his ears burn. He suddenly feels very exposed, shirtless in the backseat. "I'm not going through anything–"</p><p>"...And you're acting out, and that's fine, because I'm here for you, Troy. We're not breaking up."</p><p>"I kinda think we are," says Troy. "That's why I said that this isn't working."</p><p>She blinks rapidly. "You know my mom was a cheerleader in high school, too?"</p><p>"No, I didn't."</p><p>"She was," Hailey says, somewhat angrily. "She used to cheer for my Dad. That's how they met. It was perfect. Just like a movie. Troy, we're not breaking up. This is just a funny story we can tell our kids one day."</p><p>Troy knows that already, how perfect it is for the quarterback to be dating a cheerleader, but truthfully, he kind of prefers alien movies to high school dramas. He's never really told anyone that before.</p><p>Whenever he thinks about his future kids, the vision is unclear and the details of his adult life are hazy and a little painful. But he hopes that he could be honest with his kids. He hopes they would be honest with him in return.</p><p>"Yeah, no," he says. "I think we're breaking up."</p><p>The sad face she makes sends a stab of pain through his heart and he begins to second guess himself.</p><p>But it's the right thing to do. It's the closest thing to honesty that he can give himself.</p>
<hr/><p>His parents are arguing again. </p><p>Well, Troy didn't know that for sure, because they were out in the kitchen and he was in his room desperately trying to block out the noise, but he can still hear the sound of their voice cutting through the night, through the house and all the way to where he's laying. </p><p>It's late. He should be sleeping. But he'd probably be awake even if he could couldn't hear the low lull of his parent's voices going at each other. </p><p>The star on his wall taunts him. </p><p>Suddenly, the hushed whispering from the kitchen grows louder and Troy catches a few phrases. </p><p>"...Can't see what this is doing to him..."</p><p>"I don't know what else you want from me!"</p><p>"...than <em>this!</em>"</p><p>There's a small silence before the hushed voices pick up again, overlapping in a way that is mostly indistinguishable to Troy. He feels his heart rate start to pick up, feels tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. </p><p>"I can't–"</p><p>"<em>You</em> can't?!"</p><p>He shakes out his hands and wiggles his feet in an attempt to calm down himself down. Now he has full tears that roll from his eyes without sound. He brings his hands up to wipe them away and to hide his face behind.</p><p>After a few minutes, there's a soft knock at the door.</p><p>Troy stills and hopes that his sniffling doesn't betray him. The door creaks open.</p><p>Though he's pretending to be asleep (which usually works in situations like this) he doesn't hear the person at the door leave. He begins to blink his eyes sleepily, as if he had just woken up, and turns towards the doorway.</p><p>His mother is standing there, watching him, red-eyed.</p><p>"I'm sorry, honey," she says, her voice hoarse. "I wasn't sure if you were awake or not. I'll let you sleep. You've been so busy these days."</p><p>"No, it's okay," Troy says.</p><p>His mother takes a tentative seat on the edge of his bed. Troy wipes at his face, just in case, and immediately regrets it. It only brings attention to his eyes, which he's sure are still wet and puffy, just like his mom's are, and he's fine, really...</p><p>Cynthia reaches out and places her hand on top of his. She cradles his cheek, thumb grazing underneath his eyes.</p><p>"Momma," he cries, breaking down again. Her arms close around him and he pushes his face into the crook of her neck like a child.</p><p>"Oh, honey," she said, softly shushing him and stroking the back of his neck. "Baby, it's okay."</p><p>Troy blubbers in the way he had longed to for months. He tries to speak and struggles with the words, managing a "No" somewhere in the middle of it all.</p><p>"I know, honey, I know," she continues. "I'm sorry you heard that, baby. It's not your fault."</p><p>Troy can't summon enough breath to tell her that it wasn't just that, it was <em>everything,</em> so he uses the air he does have to keep crying.</p><p>"It's going to be okay," she says. "You'll be alright. Your father and I love you very much. <em>I</em> love you very much. And we're going to work this out..." She puts a hand underneath his chin and tilts his head upwards. "...And you'll be okay. You'll be off at school before you know it. You'll be alright."</p><p>"What's going to happen to you?" he manages. And what was going to happen to him, he wants to know but can't ask.</p><p>"We'll be okay, too. We'll figure something out," she says. "That's not for you to worry about, honey."</p><p>Maybe not, but he doesn't know how to turn off these emotions, the feeling of responsibility or the deep shame that seems to come from everywhere all at once. So he keeps crying directly into her skin and she keeps holding him.</p><p>"Oh, I'll miss you," Cynthia says, her hand now rubbing his back like she used to when he was feeling sick as a kid. "But you'll see. Once you go and get out in the world, you'll be unstoppable."</p><p>Troy laughs wetly.</p><p>"Troy the Wonder Boy," Cynthia says, borrowing his father's favorite phrase. He sniffles again. </p><p>"What's going to happen?" Troy repeats.</p><p>"I don't know, honey," she says. "But your father and I will figure this out. Don't worry about that, okay? We'll figure this out. You just focus on football. Have fun this year."</p><p>Instead of answering, Troy holds her closer as she presses a kiss to his forehead.</p>
<hr/><p>He's driving really, <em>really</em> fast, the cool night air on his face and the music blasting.</p><p>"Dude," Jack says from the passenger seat. "You're going really fast."</p><p>Troy laughs and continues driving. He takes one hand off the wheel and sticks it out the open window.</p><p>"Dude, seriously," a voice says from the backseat — he's pretty sure it's Ethan. "Slow down."</p><p>Troy waggles his eyebrows and keeps driving.</p><p>"Fucking <em>slow down!"</em> That's definitely Steph, her voice going shrill as she pleads with him.</p><p>He slows to a crawl. "Sorry."</p><p>"You should be," Steph says, burning him with her words.</p><p>"I was just trying to get there faster."</p><p>"Just keep driving, man," says Jack.</p><p>He does. They arrive at Evan's in one piece.</p>
<hr/><p>On Senior Night, the players' families are supposed to escort them across the field before the game.</p><p>Troy frowns at the sight of his father – <em>only</em> his father.</p><p>"Where's Uncle Carl?" Troy demands, knowing that he would likely be receiving a lecture about being too needy and impatient later. His father sighed. "Dad."</p><p>"Carl couldn't make it, Troy. It's just me today."</p><p>"What happened?!" Troy yells, already worried. He feels his voice screech and he has half a mind to be embarrassed about it, especially when his dad flinches at the sound, but he's too preoccupied by the panic rising in his chest to feel it in full. "He said he'd be here. Something's wrong."</p><p>"Troy." Jay's voice is ice cold as his hand clamps down on his shoulder. Troy curls in on himself. "Control yourself. Listen to me."</p><p>Troy takes several deep breaths, in and out and in and out, and he tries to slow them but they just keep coming, faster and faster and his vision is getting blurry, his eyes fixate on his feet—</p><p>"Troy," his father repeats. "Look at me."</p><p>Troy tears his eyes away from the ground and looks into his father's eyes. "Something's wrong, I know it. Just tell me. Please just tell me."</p><p>"He's alive," Jay says, and suddenly, all of the air in Troy's lungs exits in one large <em>whoosh.</em></p><p>"God..."</p><p>"Careful," his father warns.</p><p>"Then where is he?"</p><p>"He's not doing well," Jay says bluntly, but honestly. "Apparently Dimitri checked into a rehab center earlier today. It's causing a lot of stress."</p><p>"What?!"</p><p>"Troy, I'm not going to say this again. Please keep your voice down."</p><p>"I don't <em>get</em> it!"</p><p>"Dimitri checked into a rehab center," Jay says firmly, "in Denver. So they think he's been staying with Annika. But we don't have a lot of information right now. Carl's trying to go up and see them."</p><p>"Is that where Mom is? With him?"</p><p>Jay sighs. "I don't you to worry about this, Troy."</p><p>"But I–"</p><p>"I'm here, Troy." He probably means to sound reassuring, but Troy still has a thousand questions without answers. "So let's go."</p><p>His father escorts him across the field. He pretends that his mother and Uncle Carl just got shy, and that they're out in the stands, cheering with everyone else. If he doesn't look too closely, he can almost believe it.</p><p>They win the game and he goes out to celebrate, just like he always does. The liquor burns just a little bit more than it usually does.</p>
<hr/><p>When Troy gets home the next day, feeling hungover and generally stupid, he finds his father in the kitchen.</p><p>His father in the kitchen alone.</p><p>"Dad," Troy says over the sound of his father chopping up vegetables. The repeated sound is extra loud and displeasing.</p><p>Something's wrong. He can't describe it, but the whole house feels different. His stomach twists and he doesn't think it's from his hangover.</p><p>Troy kicks off his shoes and speaks louder. "Dad," he repeats. "Where's Mom?"</p><p>"Your mother," he says, "has left us."</p><p>His hands continue moving swiftly to cut up more carrots.</p><p>"What?!" Troy exclaims, practically screaming. "What?! No. No, she didn't."</p><p>"Yes, she did," says Jay. "Please sit down. I'll have something for you to eat soon."</p><p><em>"What are you talking about?!"</em> His voice cracks from the force with which he spoke. Troy begins to shake out his hands, wildly flapping them at waist level.</p><p>"Please sit."</p><p>"No!" Troy insists. "No, Dad. I need to know what you're saying. Because that can't be true. I don't think that's true. It can't be. I think maybe that's what you think happened, but it's not actually true and there's a misunderstanding so we need to figure it out, please—"</p><p>"Sit. Down," his father says firmly, so he did. Troy's limbs shake even as they rest at the kitchen table. "You need to eat something and keep your strength up. Please sit."</p><p>He's already seated, but Jay hasn't turned around to see that yet.</p><p>"Dad," Troy tries again, fighting for composure. "I don't get it. Something must be wrong. We need to figure this out."</p><p>"Your mother made her choice." His back is still turned to Troy. "She knew what it meant to stop Witnessing. I made sure she knew. And she made her choice anyways. There's no mistake. She's left us."</p><p>Troy's lip wobbles. "Dad."</p><p>His father pushes a plate in front of him. The food both looks and smells horrible. "Eat."</p><p>"Dad–"</p><p>"Eat," he says, more firmly this time. "It's over. It's done. She made her choice and now we have to live with that. We have to let her go." He turns back around. "We both do."</p><p>"She wouldn't just <em>leave</em>."</p><p>"Troy, I told you what happened."</p><p>"But–"</p><p>"And now we move forward," he says and walks directly out of the room.</p><p>Troy forces a bite of food and then spits it back out onto the plate. No taste.</p>
<hr/><p>He crashes his car so bad he knows he should just be lucky to be alive.</p><p>He's alive and no one else is hurt, but the shitty car he used to drive is destroyed. It's bad enough that his dad says he won't pay to fix it. Troy wonders if it's really because the car used to be his mom's.</p><p>Over time, he finds out that she lives in Coldwater now. He could go see her. Technically. If he wanted to.</p><p>But his dad tells him not to, so he doesn't. As far as he knows, she doesn't try to talk to him either.</p>
<hr/><p>Everyone's so sure he's going to win Prom King.</p><p>He wants to win it, too. He doesn't think he will, though.</p><p>But he likes that everyone was so confident in him. Sydney Perkins was really happy to go with him, even when he messes up slipping the corsage over her wrist. She touches his sash a lot, running her fingers across the satin material on his chest, over and over and over. She smiles extra wide for all the photos, and even calls over the yearbook photographer to take more.</p><p>Troy finds himself parked on the sidelines pretty early in the night, sipping on punch that (regrettably) no one has spiked and watching other people dance. He likes the song a lot. His toes tap in his shoes where no one can see them.</p><p>"Hey," Evan says, walking over to him. Troy perks up. "You ready to win?"</p><p>He forces a laugh. "Yeah, okay. I think you've got me beat, man."</p><p>"Okay, Quarterback," Evan laughs back. "It's you. It's cool, man. You've earned it."</p><p>Troy feels good. Really good, warm all over from his head to his toes, and he gives a small shimmy in celebration. If he does win, then he had earned it, he decides. Prom King was a badge of honor. Evan thought so. "Thanks, man."</p><p>Suddenly, Sydney's in front of them, arms crossed and angrily tapping her foot.</p><p>Troy raises his eyebrows at her.</p><p>"Are you going to dance with me?" she spits out.</p><p>"Uh, sorry," Troy says. "I'm not really much of a dancer."</p><p>Sydney huffs, rolls her eyes, and leaves.</p><p>Evan shoots him a look. "Women," he says, like he knows what he's talking about.</p><p>"Yeah," Troy says. "Women." There. Now they're both confused by women. They have that in common.</p><p>He wins Prom King.</p><p>Sydney pretends like she isn't mad at him. Evan cheers, just like everyone else.</p>
<hr/><p><em>Most Handsome, Most Popular, Best Smile, Best Moves, Best Practical Joker, Coolest Locker.</em> Under the haze of alcohol, there comes a point where all of his superlatives begin to blend together. There's a couple of them where he isn't even sure why he's winning them, but everyone's applauding and everyone's cheering and people clap him on the back and congratulate him and he's earned it, hasn't he? He had been the most popular, he had smiled the best smile, he had done everything he needed to do even when he didn't want to. He's earned it.</p><p>He wins Most Likely to Succeed and a mousey girl screams from across the room.</p><p>"You have got to be kidding me, Troy Barnes, Most Likely to Succeed?!"</p><p>Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registers that this is the girl who had offered him tutoring.</p><p>"I'm the damn valedictorian and head of student council and the president of the Campus Crusade for Christ and I'm <em>Jewish.</em> And you are just some mindless robot, you just go where ever they tell you to run!"</p><p>Troy feels like someone had injected ice into his veins. So what if he liked having other people tell him what to do? That made life so much easier. Was that really such a bad thing?</p><p>And who was she to call him a robot when she had offered him help, offered to tell him what to do, and he had refused it? Couldn't she see? Couldn't she see how hard he was working to be himself? Who was she to imply otherwise?</p><p>"I'm sorry. Do you go to my school?"</p><p>It's cruel. Even he knows that.</p><p>What he doesn't expect is for her to scream again, to take out her frustrations, go completely wild, and crash through the window, hop the fence, and run away.</p><p>He laughs and he isn't sure if it's pure cruelty on his part or just for show.</p><p>It could be either, he thinks as they all try to return to the party. It could be both, he realizes as he laughs with the others who have seemingly forgotten what just happened before their own eyes.</p><p>He was colder now. Meaner. How had that happened?</p><p>How had any of this happened? How had he ended up this way?</p><p>He thought he was doing the right thing.</p><p>And how had he determined what the right thing was, anyways? He had based it around what other people were telling him, he supposes. But that was the right thing to do, right?</p><p>Right?</p><p>It doesn't matter. He's leaving soon and he'll go to college and go off and play football and forget about it.</p><p>But how can he forget when football only makes him think about this <em>more?</em> When it reminds him of Uncle Carl, of his parents, of everything he was incapable of doing? When it made him breathe so quickly and so desperately that he thought he would pass out? When it sets a standard for him that he knows he won't ever reach, no matter how hard he tries? No matter how much of himself he tries to suppress, it'll still be unattainable.</p><p>He doesn't want that. He doesn't. He wants to be free, to be rid of all of this.</p><p>Some girl at the party shows him pictures and he doesn't really care, but he looks at them anyways, for a long time.</p><p>Someone's doing a keg stand and he makes his escape.</p><p>"Are you guys doing keg stands? Anyone can do a keg stand. I'm gonna do a keg flip."</p><p>It could all be over, soon enough. One way or the other. All he has to do was fall hard enough.</p><p>"Watch this!" he yells and he flings himself into a keg flip.</p><p>He closes his eyes and waits.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks, and as always, please leave kudos/comments if u liked it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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